


Play Date

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Series: Pretty Much the Same [3]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3562202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fem!Flynn in a tiny tennis skirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Date

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

As she watched the tennis ball being swatted back and forth across the net, Yuri remained happily ignorant to most of the finer points of scoring and technique on display. That didn't stop her from cheering Flynn on with unrivaled enthusiasm during lulls in the action. She'd learned long ago to hold her peace while the ball was in play, but all the dirty looks from the country club set that filled the rest of the stands weren't enough to keep her silent right after a point had been scored. Why settle for reserved clapping when she could whistle sharply enough to cut glass and her girlfriend was down there kicking ass?

Or maybe not kicking ass. Yuri winced as the ball smacked down inside the bounds of Flynn's half of the court. The patter of polite golf clapping rose up on behalf of her opponent, and Yuri shouted out over it.

“You can do it, Flynn! Go get 'er!”

Even shadowed by her visor, Flynn's eyes still shone bright blue as her attention flicked briefly up into the stands. She ducked her head, and Yuri couldn't tell if the motion was meant as acknowledgment or if she was embarrassed by her one-woman cheerleader team. Well. She'd had plenty of chances to learn what happened when she brought Yuri along to watch a match. If she was that embarrassed, she wouldn't keep offering invitations.

The score was announced as Flynn's opponent prepared her serve. Yuri ignored the referee's call. She didn't understand why they couldn't just say the points like they really were. Nobody actually had forty points, or sixty, or whatever. Yuri didn't think she'd ever even been to a game where one person scored that many points, though some of them had dragged on long enough. If ever there was a sport in need of a sudden death round it was tennis.

Feeling a bit like a cat watching a laser pointer, Yuri kept her eyes on the ball as it hurtled toward Flynn and was sent rocketing back. She jumped a little in her seat, but bit back a cheer. Flynn might not be quite as quick as some of her opponents, but damn, could she slam that ball home! The court was sparsely filled with sounds: footsteps in a hurried dash, the hollow 'thok!' of the ball against a racket, wind in the trees outside the fence, the shifting of quiet spectators. When Flynn sent the ball sailing over the net into the narrow margin between the boundary and her opponent's reach, Yuri was on her feet in an instant, slicing through the hush with a whistle that nearly drowned out the referee's call. Flynn had won back the right to serve.

They traded sides. The signal for the switch was one of the esoteric nuances that Yuri still hadn't quite worked out. She could never remember if it was a point or time limit that decided it. She did know that it was better to be the one serving, and she was pretty sure that what Flynn had just done was called a 'mini-break.' Later on, she'd congratulate her on it and see if Flynn was impressed that she was learning more about tennis's unnecessary complications.

Flynn took up her place opposite where she'd been standing. She bounced the ball twice before setting up to serve. As she held out her racket and ball, Yuri heard her announce: “Ad out.” Flynn had explained plenty of the terms before, but Yuri remembered that one. She was stating that her opponent held the advantage. It brought a fierce grin to Yuri's face, because she knew Flynn called that out to make it clear that she was prepared to rise to the challenge. Yuri hoped she _annihilated_ the other player.

Flynn had needed three points to win when she'd announced her opponent's advantage, and she set about earning them with renewed focus. Yuri had met a lot of people who thought that Flynn was mild mannered, but those people had never seen her on the tennis court—or in an actual court, for that matter. Flynn was aggressive as hell when a situation warranted it. She was the type that always gave a hundred and ten percent. An overachiever. Though she might tease Flynn about that sometimes, Yuri loved her for it. More than everything else, it was her passion that Yuri was most attracted to.

Watching Flynn play, Yuri knew that nothing outside the game existed for her. It was even difficult to catch her attention between points, and Yuri reined in the cheering, not wanting to break Flynn's concentration. It was one thing when they faced each other and Flynn complained about her non-stop mouth, but Yuri didn't want to see her lose to someone else, particularly not over something as stupid as being distracted by an over-enthusiastic girlfriend.

They'd been together for...hell, Yuri couldn't even remember how long it had been. Even so, seeing Flynn get worked up, seeing her get serious and fiery never failed to get Yuri excited, too. When a spark from one could ignite in the other as if catching in dry kindling, it meant that living together was never dull.

The thought brought a lopsided smile to her face. Actually, there was something that she'd been meaning to ask Flynn. It meant long term, but they'd been together forever, anyway. Sure, it would be a big commitment, but she was fairly certain that Flynn wouldn't say no. Probably. Either way, Yuri wasn't about to let uncertainty stand in the way of happiness. She'd ask Flynn later that night. Flynn would almost definitely say yes. Their domestic bliss would multiply ridiculously. It was a good plan.

Leaning back on the bleacher, Yuri propped her heels on the empty seat in front of her and rested her elbows on the one behind. Now that she had made up her mind, she wanted the match to end so they could hurry up and get home. It was too hot out, anyway. Even the breeze wasn't providing much of a relief. Though she had tied her hair up, tendrils soaked with sweat still clung to her neck. The sun beat down on her skin, making her black tank top feel more like a wool blanket. She was glad she'd worn shorts rather than jeans, though she was pretty sure she'd be going home with at least a light sunburn. Flynn tanned. Yuri did not.

Luckily, although Yuri had seen some matches go on forever, this one only lasted about another twenty minutes. Flynn shut out her opponent, remaining in control of the ball until she'd earned the requisite points to win the match and the set. Yuri gave her a good, long whistle when her victory was announced, then slipped out of the bleachers while Flynn was still being politely applauded off the court.

She made her way into the little building that housed the changing and equipment rooms, an office, and restrooms. Inside, it was all dim fluorescence and shadows, pale gray linoleum and whitewashed walls, honey-gold doors, and the hum of industrial air conditioning set to create an indoor ice age. Walking inside felt like diving into a pool, and Yuri was grateful for it until her sweat cooled and she began to shiver. She leaned against the wall near the changing room door. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long.

“Hey.” Yuri waved as Flynn appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by sunlight. “Congrats. Great game.”

“Not really.” Flynn was smiling as she approached. She was dripping sweat. Patches of it darkened her sky blue polo. Yuri couldn't help staring as Flynn pulled the hem up to wipe her face, briefly exposing her stomach. “She broke my service too many times. I'm out of practice.”

“Well, what do you expect when you never stop working? Cut yourself some slack. You won, didn't you?”

“Yeah. Somehow.”

Between the flush of exertion and that pleased smile, she was positively glowing. Yuri leaned a little more of her weight against the wall, appreciating the sight. She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow.

“'Somehow?' You could have gone pro.”

Yuri loved the way Flynn's eyes crinkled up at the corners when she grinned really big. She loved the sly expression that snuck onto Flynn's face as she glanced back to check that the hallway was still deserted. She really loved the way that Flynn stepped in close, leaning up against her for a kiss. The chill of the air conditioning was banished in a rush of warmth that sent a different sort of shiver running up Yuri's spine. Flynn cupped her cheek gently with one hand. The racket she held in the other brushed lightly against Yuri's leg. Her eyes seemed a little brighter when she pulled back.

“I do far more good as a prosecutor than I would have as a tennis player.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” Yuri managed. She was having a hard time not dragging Flynn in close once more. Whatever was keeping the other woman couldn't possibly last much longer. “Go get your stuff. You can shower at home.” Grinning, she tweaked the hem of Flynn's skirt. “I'll help you out of your cute little uniform.”

With that little bit of incentive, Flynn moved almost as quickly as she had on the court.

* * *

 

Flynn had barely pulled off her polo when Yuri darted in to strip away her sports bra, yanking it up over raised arms. Tossing it aside, she caught Flynn up in her arms. Her enthusiasm sent Flynn stumbling back and Yuri—off balance and wholly unwilling to let go—went with her. Their bare feet slapped lightly over the tiled floor until the sink brought them to a halt and left Flynn at her mercy. Kissing down her neck and collarbone, Yuri savored the warmth of sun-drenched skin on her lips. As she made her way lower, she felt Flynn fumbling with the tie that held her hair back until the whole, clinging mass of it fell free over her neck and back. Fingers carded through it, snagging on tangles, letting in breaths of cooler air, even as she felt warmth rising inside her.

She buried her face between Flynn's breasts. Her scent hung heavy in Yuri's nose, her sweat tasted salty on Yuri's lips. She turned her head, kissing over the soft curvature, hands pulling in off Flynn's back, over her sides and around to cup her close. Flynn abruptly stopped petting as Yuri parted her lips and let her tongue slip over sweat-damp skin. Playfully, she sampled the resistance as she licked against yielding flesh, then drew back to swirl the tip around Flynn's nipple. It stiffened beneath her tongue, between her lips. Grinning, she nipped lightly, and felt sharp tugs as Flynn's hands clenched into fists around her hair.

“Yuri....”

God, she loved hearing her name slip out like that. Hushed and breathy, it sounded like a plea, like Flynn wanted her more than she could contain.

“Mmm?” She hummed her curiosity, mouth locked on Flynn's breast. Her fingers stroked languidly, teasingly, just beneath the other.

“Maybe...maybe this can wait just a few moments? Until we're in the shower?” She gasped and faltered as Yuri nipped again, leaving a little love bite high enough to peek over the top of Flynn's usual bras. “I'd like to get cleaned up. I reek.”

“You don't reek.” She hid her face once more and breathed deeply, sighed it out. The sweat-smell was clean, the result of healthy activity rather than merely an unwashed body. Turning to the other side, she kissed a trail up and over the mound of pale skin. “You smell like...homemade bread. And daisies maybe. Or dandelions. Pollen.” Glancing up to meet Flynn's eyes, she flicked her tongue over her nipple. “Homemade bread and pollen.”

Flynn was trying not to smile. She was flushed again, definitely a good look for her. “I can't tell if you're making fun of me or not.”

“I only do that when you deserve it.” Straightening up, she slid her arms over Flynn's shoulders. Still hidden away behind bra and tank top, her own small breasts pushed against Flynn's. Their foreheads bumped together and Yuri grinned as she wiggled her shoulders. “Do you deserve it?”

“I deserve a hot shower.” Her arms snaked around Yuri, pulling her closer until she could clasp her hands just at the small of her back. “With the pleasure of your company, of course.”

There really was only one way to respond to an invitation like that.

* * *

 

Lying on her back across Flynn's neatly made bed, Yuri felt dazed and almost too warm despite the fact that she was still naked and damp from the shower. She could feel the heat radiating off her own skin. Some it was from the hot water, some of it was a result of Flynn's gentle, insistent fingers and warm mouth.

And some of it was from the sunburn that had left her face, shoulders, and thighs stinging. Flynn came in from the bathroom with a little tube of ointment and a smile that clearly said 'I told you so.' With a roll of her eyes, Yuri blew a raspberry and sat up. The mattress dipped as Flynn sat down behind her.

“I remind you to put on sunscreen every time. How do you always forget?”

Yuri shrugged. “I guess the thought of getting to see you prancing around in that tiny skirt just gets me all hot and bothered.”

“Ha ha.” The tube was tossed into her lap as Flynn's hands, cooled by a coating of the ointment, settled to either side of her neck. “I'll get your shoulders. You do your legs.”

She hadn't been entirely joking, but she kept that thought to herself and set about treating her sunburn. As she rubbed the ointment into her skin and hummed with pleasure as Flynn massaged her shoulders, she remembered suddenly the question she'd been wanting to ask.

“Hey, Flynn?”

“Yes?”

Yuri couldn't keep the smile off her face, or the excitement out of out of her voice. “Can we get a dog?”


End file.
